Mae Madden eBook

A great weight, as large as the Piedmontese, fell
from Norman’s heart then, and he scattered money
among the children recklessly and ordered up the donkey;
and smiled on the amazed Lisetta all in the same breath,
and went back to help Mae into the wagon with the lightest
kind of a heart. It was a strange ride they took
back to Castellamare. I think they both wished
the world could stand still once more. When they
had arrived at the station they found the next train
to Naples was not due for two hours. Norman left
Mae in the waiting-room for a time. Through the
window she watched Gaetano and the donkey start homeward,
with a great sigh of relief. She had time while
she was sitting to think, but her head was in too
great a whirl. She could only feel sorry and ashamed
and meek and happy, all mixed together. The sensation
was odd.

“I have telegraphed Eric that we would start
home by the next train, that you had only been off
for a frolic. I hope we can buy a waterproof
or shawl and a hat in Naples for you?”

“Yes,” said Mae, meekly, “I have
my waterproof here. I think I will put it on
now, please,” and she began nervously to untie
the shawl strap. Norman put her fingers gently
aside, and unbuckled it for her. He handed her
the long deep-blue cloak, which she put tightly about
her, drawing the hood over her head. “You
look like a nun,” said Norman, smiling.
“I wish I were one,” replied Mae, with
a choke in her throat. She was growing very penitential
and softened.

“What shall we do now?” asked Mr. Mann.
“We have a long time to wait. If you feel
like walking, we can find a pleasanter spot than this.”

“Go anywhere you please,” replied Mae
meekly. “What is the matter with you?”—­for
Norman had a very amused expression in his brown eyes.

“I hardly recognize you. Not a trace of
fight so far, and it must be two hours since we met.”

“Don’t,” said Mae, with her eyes
down, so of course he didn’t, but the two just
marched quietly along back on the Sorrento road towards
some high rocks. They sat down behind these,
with their faces towards the sea, and were as thoroughly
hidden from view, as if they had been quite alone
in the world.

“I suppose they were frightened,” asked
Mae, “at home—­at Rome, I mean.”
“Dreadfully,” replied Norman, trying to
be sober, but with the glad ring in his voice still.
“Edith was for dragging the Tiber; she was sure
you and the seven-branched candlestick lay side by
side. Mrs. Jerrold searched your trunks and read
all your private papers, I am morally certain.”
Then Norman stopped abruptly, and Mae drew the long
stiletto from her hair nervously and played with it
before she said, “And the boys?” “Albert
was very, very sad, but reasonably sure you would be
found. We all feared the Italian, but Albert worked
carefully, and soon discovered that the officer was
said to be engaged to a young girl with whom he had
been seen the day after you left, and that gave him
courage,”—­then Norman stopped again
abruptly. “And Eric?” “Eric
sat down with his face in his hands and cried, Miss
Mae, and said, ’I’ve lost my sister, the
very dearest little sister in the world.’”